of watermelons, storms and summer evenings lost

She always did well at the county fair. Her cherry pie was to die for and her long-haired heifers were the envy of the ol’ boys.

“That there’s a cow.” They’d mutter, leaning on the fence while gazing soulfully at yet another one of her winners.

This year the grand prize was no less than an all expenses paid trip to Las Vegas. She intended to win it all. She always did, and they loathed her for it. She’d gloat in their faces and strut around the grounds with an array of blue and red ribbons across her dumpy bosom. A sore winner to be sure.

That summer she tended to her watermelons as if her life depended on it. They grew large and green and were destined for greatness. She would croon and purr over them. They were her beauties. I wish I could have found such favour in her eyes. She was my aunt and most evenings I would peddle over to help her roll the melons so that they wouldn’t grow flat spots.

“Put your back into it boy or next time send your sister.”

I’m certain her bark was worse than her bite but it didn’t make those summer evenings anymore enjoyable. She’d cuss and cluck and hiss at my work and then turn around and lovingly stroke the green monster I was heaving. She had a lot of love for the fruits of the vine. Every so often I’d give a melon a good kick just to spite her. I’d cry out as if I tripped and show her the dented rind.

“God help me child! Can’t you even walk, boy? I’ve half a mind to do it myself.”

I wished she would do it herself and send me home but she never did. Strong as she was, she really did need my help to roll the big one. Her prize was growing at the edge of the patch nearest the gate. Bitter as I was at missing out on evening of swimming, baseball or watching tv, I knew better than to mess with that melon. No fake falls around that one.

One hot summer night as I biked over, the sky grew steadily darker. One of those freak thunderstorms was moving in and fast. The air that had been so thick and still was beginning to stir. As I turned off the main road, I could see her down at the end of the lane working feverishly to get as much done before the storm broke. Her sturdy frame bustled here and there throughout the patch, snipping a vine then turning around to pinch a bud. She would be waiting for me to help with the heavy work.

I pedaled faster as the black clouds stacked above me. The wind was kicking up, I could see the fields waving as I hurried past. Thunder was rolling and close too. Big drops began to fall. As I approached the gate all hell broke loose. Thunder cracked right over head and lightning licked earth. It lit up the gate as I shot through, lugs pumping, eyes wide with surprise, every hair at charged to attention.

I couldn’t stop. My tire hit a small melon at the edge of the patch, front wheel twisting. Time seemed to slow. I could see my bike stop beneath me and recede behind. I was airborne, the vines of the patch passing underneath. Looking up I see two things very clearly – my Aunt’s horrified expression and an incredibly large watermelon in my flight path. Rolling and tucking my shoulder, I braced for impact.

I came to a few moments later, the cool rind of her prized melon against my neck. The sky was still dark, the rain still fell, but the frenzy of the storm had receded over the fields. I lay there, surveying the damage. Front bike tire severily bent, lodged in a small melon. Left shoulder very tender, wedged in a gigantic melon. Aunt’s face expressionless, eyes riveted on a her precious punctured melon.

“Com’on boy.”

With just a hint of tenderness, she helped me extricate myself, watermelon innards reluctantly releasing me. We walked slowly to the house to call my mom. With every step her hope of glory faded.

—-

another piece birthed at storytellers anonymous. this one from an exercise that had everyone submit a word, phrase, place name to a list. the object was for each person to write a story that included all words on the list. this time around we had to use the following: watermelon, Las Vegas, a grumpy aunt, thunderstorm and any form of the verb to fade. and there it is…